


Bottom of the Hourglass

by CaptainSummerDay



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Child Death, Dark, Multi, Time Travel, War, a lot of death in general
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-18
Updated: 2014-08-21
Packaged: 2018-02-13 15:13:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2155251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainSummerDay/pseuds/CaptainSummerDay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The machine should never have existed. Until it did and then, obviously, it had always existed.</p><p>What difference can one man really make? Ward centric.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Machine

There was a patch of damp extending down from the bottom left corner of the metal window. It was on the southern wall of the compound where the sun’s heat would turn the cell into a sweltering hell by midday. At night, Grant could hear the cracking as the sudden plummet in temperature caused the concrete to contract and fracture. It had already pulled away from sealant round the metal frame in places, letting the rain in whenever the next storm broke.

 

Given enough time, Grant could probably loosen the frame enough to remove it and make his escape through the resulting hole. The patrols passed by at regular fifteen minute intervals. Two MP’s, both armed with M60s. He could time the run across to the perimeter fence to avoid the searchlight sweeps and then head to the nearest safe house.

 

Miami probably.

 

Given enough time.

 

A low rumble echoed round the cell, followed moments later by the sudden hammer of rain against the glass. A slow trickle started to form down the wall as light flooded the cell.

 

Grant blinked as his eyes struggled to adjust. Not lightning. Fluorescent. His gut clenched.

 

A month at most to scrape out the sealant.

 

He could hear the rhythmic march of three sets of footsteps growing louder in the corridor. The silence as they stopped outside.

 

The one thing Grant was out of.

 

The cell door swung open.

 

“Prisoner will stand.”

 

Grant pulled himself to his feet, turning to face the guard stepping up to him. The kid was young, barely into his teens but already with that recognisable combat hardness behind his eyes. Then again, before his capture Grant remembered reading that the draft had been extended to those as young as ten. Desperation had led to the hope that sheer weight of numbers might be the only thing to turn the tide in humanity’s favour.

 

Grant held out his hands as the kid fastened the cuffs round them. He winced as the kid cinched one a fraction too tight. A quick tug pulled him off balance long enough for the kid to lean in quickly.

 

“I hope they give you to _them_ you murdering bastard.”

 

Grant blinked at the harshly whispered words, but the kid was already moving back, hatred filling his eyes as he glared at Grant.

 

“Ace! Back in line private.”

 

The kid spun on his heel and quickly marched out of the cell. Grant watched as he was replaced by one of the MPs, gun levelled but just out of reach.

 

Another couple of months and Grant could have been watching the world burn with a bottle of scotch in one hand, a glass in the other, on the roof of his penthouse.

 

The one thing Grant didn’t have.

 

“Prisoner 24829. It’s time.”

 

Grant pushed back his shoulders. It was finally time to learn his fate. Although it was really just a formality. Grant already knew how this would end.

 

***

 

There was a clock hanging on the far wall as Grant entered the room. Directly below sat the hearings panel, Director May flanked on either side by two men Grant didn’t recognise. Most likely Military and DOJ. The rows of wooden chairs were empty though, with just two extra guards stationed at the doorway and his escort making up the numbers.

 

Closed hearing. Grant had expected that much.

 

The minute hand ticked over. Five past one in the morning. Grant felt his mouth twitch into a mockery of a smile as the gun at his back encouraged him forwards.

 

“Working round the clock, May? They do say that the Calvary never sleeps.”

 

He came to a stop before the panel. May’s face was impassive. Grant didn’t know why she bothered. Like there was any point in pretending. Like the outcome wasn’t already decided.

 

Fuck it. Grant was going to move things along.

 

He laughed. “But we both know that’s not true, don’t we. _Melinda._ ”

 

He threw in a wink for good measure and was rewarded with a flash of _something_ across the Director’s face before she shut it down and glanced back at the open file in front of her.

 

“Don’t call me that.”

 

A low tick.

 

01.07.

 

May shut the file and looked Grant in the eyes.

 

“Prisoner 24829. Grant Ward. You stand before this hearing on numerous counts of treason, murder, espionage and terrorism. Should you be found guilty the maximum penalty that can be awarded is the death sentence. How do you plead?”

 

Grant forced down the gnawing sensation inside as he met her emotionless look with one of his own.

 

“I’m only guilty of doing my job. Everything else is just hazards of the world we live in.”

 

May smiled without humour before she glanced back down at the paperwork in front of her.

 

“Quite.”

 

Another dull tick. One of the guards shifted behind him, the rustle of cloth seeming to echo in the empty room.

 

01:10

 

Grant could feel a tickle on the left side of his face.

 

He didn’t move and stared straight ahead.

 

01:11

 

The man on May’s right coughed and shifted, pushing one of the papers on the desk closer to May’s line of sight. Her head snapped up and she skewered the official with a glare.

 

The Man didn’t blink. Instead he tapped the paper once with his finger.

 

Grant felt a sudden flicker of interest. The first time in months events hadn’t played out exactly the way he expected, and something had The Calvary on the back foot. He glanced down at the paper briefly but it was too far away to make out any details.

 

His eyes cut to May as she let out a sigh and blinked first.

 

Definitely unexpected.

 

Grant felt himself straighten slightly as May looked back over at him.

 

He hated that he did that.

 

“After careful review and due process, you have been found guilty of the charges brought against you. In light of your affiliations with known terror groups, the sentence in cases like this will always be death. However, due to some unique circumstances the decision has been made to offer you an alternative.”

 

Grant narrowed his eyes. “If you’re offering to just shoot me now, you may as well save time and get on with it.”

 

May’s features pinched before relaxing as she blew out a sigh. “I’m not going to shoot you, Ward. I’m offering you a chance. You could be a free man by tomorrow.”

 

Grant could feel his gut clenching again. A sensation like icy water ran down his spine. Something was wrong. This shouldn’t be happening.

 

This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen.

 

Grant shook off the feeling and raised an eyebrow. “You’re saying I could just walk out of here. No escort? No guards keeping watch at a distance?”

 

May’s lips twitched into a smile. “It would be like you were never here.”

 

He knew there was a catch. There always was. That’s how it worked. Wait until you’re desperate so you never seen the strings attached. He knew that. Grant knew that.

 

He still said yes.

 

***

 

The machine should never have existed. Until it did and then, obviously, it had always existed.

 

At first the room seemed empty. There was a pressure behind Grant’s eyes; making them water as they tried to focus on what wasn’t there.

 

It felt wrong. Like an oil slick spreading through his skull, deep inside the bone. He gritted his teeth as the pressure grew. Fought against the nausea at the invasive sense of what shouldn’t be.

 

The pressure disappeared suddenly, without warning and Grant was left blinking at the machine in front of him. At the chair with its cuffs and wires. The chair that had always been there. It was just so against everything that should exist, Grant hadn’t been able to process it until now.

 

He didn’t want to touch it.

 

He cleared his throat.

 

He could feel May watching from behind the window, the execution squad waiting in the next room.

 

He swallowed back bile.

 

Took a step forwards.

 

It didn’t get easier.

 

One more.

 

Two technicians were suddenly beside him, pressing him down into the seat. He could see the flicker of revulsion on their faces as they came into contact with the various parts of the machine. Bracers snapped shut, locking him in place and then they were walking away as quickly as they could to the computer terminals nearby.

 

If it wasn’t for the sickly wrongness in his head, Grant would have laughed. It was a familiar expression to him by now, but this was the first time in weeks/months/years it hasn’t been directed at him.

 

Task accomplished they started to step away, hurrying towards the door as fast as they could.

 

He felt a flicker of panic then.

 

“Hey!” His voice cracked, his mouth too dry. Grant swallowed and tried again. “Hey! How exactly is this thing supposed to work?”

 

There was a crackle and then May’s voice came over a speaker somewhere to his right.

 

“You’ll know. You’ve always known.”

 

Then the lights flickered out and the machinery whirled to life. He could feel it, pressing against him, burrowing inside, forcing its way between his very atoms as it chased release, purpose and then he knew what to do.

 

He’d always known.

 

He _remembered_ as the world went dark.


	2. The Mission

Grant felt a trickle of cold air work its way down his spine.

He blinked his eyes open to see the same concrete walls as yesterday, their details hazy in the darkness.

Grant rolled over onto his back and glanced up at the window above him. The bitter night air was creeping in through the disintegrating sealant.

Must be the cause of the draft.

He stared at the patch of damp extending down from the bottom left corner of the metal window.

_He remembered this._

_He remembered waking in his cell._

Grant sat up on the cot and shook his head. It was a dream. Some crazy fantasy cooked up in his mind as he tried to find a way out of the inescapable.

He needed to stop denying the truth and face reality.

He was out of time.

A low rumble echoed round the cell, followed moments later by the sudden hammer of rain against the glass. A slow trickle started to form down the wall as light flooded the cell.

Grant blinked as his eyes struggled to adjust. Not lightning. Fluorescent. His gut clenched.

_He remembered this. Any moment now. Three sets of footsteps..._

He could hear them now. The distant rhythmic march growing louder in the corridor.

He didn’t have long. Thirty seconds at most...

Grant sprang silently to his feet and positioned himself to the side of the door.

_The footsteps stop and the kid enters first..._

The footsteps fell silent as they stopped outside.

The cell door swung open.

“Pris-”

Grant spun to face the guard stepping inside. The kid was young, barely into his teens but already with the alertness that came from combat. Grant saw narrowed eyes widen as the kid reached for his baton but Grant already was moving in for the chokehold. He angled himself behind his hostage as he turned to face the doorway.

“Guns on the ground. _NOW._ ”

He dodged a weak kick from the struggling kid _/Ace/_ and gave a warning squeeze with his arm round the kid’s neck. The guards outside dropped their guns to the floor.

“I hope they give you to _them_ you murdering bastard.”

Grant blinked at the harshly whispered words, but the kid was already weakening. He shifted them forwards slightly, lining the kid up with the doorframe. The guards outside straightened, neither set of eyes leaving Grant and his hostage.

Grant nodded at the guns. “Kick them over.”

The M60s skittered to a stop by his feet. He snagged first one then the other with his foot as he kicked them behind him.

A quick slam of the kid’s head against the concrete, two steps forward as the body dropped and it was over within a few well placed punches.

Grant stepped back into the cell and picked up one of the M60s. It had never been his weapon of choice but it was better than nothing.

He paused by the kid before he knelt and grabbed a wrist to check for a pulse. As he did he noticed the name on the uniform.

Something cold tickled at the base of his neck. Grant frowned. The name seemed familiar.

He dropped the wrist as the he felt the beat beneath his fingers.

Grant pushed back his shoulders. It was time to go and get some answers.

***

Neither of the two guards either side of the entrance proved to be any problem as Grant stormed into the hall.

The panel for the hearing sat at the other end directly below a wall mounted clock. Director May in the middle with two men Grant recognised but didn’t know either side.

He kept his gun raised and sighted as he stepped past the two bodies lying on the floor beside him.

The men behind the desk had frozen mid-rise, twin expressions of shock on their faces. Between them, May sat as impassive as always.

The minute hand ticked over.

Five past one in the morning.

Grant felt his mouth twitch into a mockery of a smile as the gun in his hands encouraged him forwards.

“Some things never change.”

Except for this.

_He remembered the gun at his back as the seconds ticked by._

Grant had already changed this.

He _remembered_ the last time he was here.

Grant nodded at the wall behind the panel.

“Working round the clock, May? They do say that the Calvary never sleeps.”

He came to a stop at the end of the empty aisle, the rows of empty chairs at his back. Nobody sat at the desk had moved.

Of course not.

They had no idea what was coming.

Only Grant did.

He laughed.

“But we both know that’s not true, don’t we. _Melinda._ ”

She smiled.

Grant froze.

Why was she smiling?

That wasn’t supposed to happen.

May glanced back at the open file in front of her.

“You’re right on time, Ward.”

A low tick.

01.07.

May shut the file and turned to look at the man on her right.

“I told you he would be here.”

Grant forced down the gnawing sensation inside as he glanced at the different panel members.

“There’s no way you could have known that.”

May let out a small laugh before she glanced back down at the paperwork in front of her.

“Quite.”

Another dull tick.

01:10

Grant could feel the scar on the right side of his face throb.

He ignored it as he kept his gun trained on May. She didn’t look up from her reading.

This was not how things were supposed to go.

She had to know he might pull the trigger.

Any moment. Any second.

She turned over a page.

The clock ticked over.

01:11

The man on May’s right coughed nervously and shifted. May let out a sigh as her head came up to look at him before she turned back to the papers on her desk.

“You can lower the gun, Ward. It appears you’re making my colleagues nervous.”

Grant felt his jaw clench. This was _not_ supposed to happen. She did not get to remain in control this time.

Not this time.

“That’s generally the whole point, May.”

Grant felt himself straighten slightly as May looked back over at him.

He hated that he did that.

“You already know about the choice I have to offer. Your being here tells me you’ve already accepted. So why don’t we dispense with the theatrics and lower your damned gun.”

Grant narrowed his eyes at her dismissive tone. She knew.

Somehow May already knew.

Grant felt something twist inside.

“You’re asking me to get back in that machine again.”

He remembered the feel of it.

He couldn’t forget the feel of it.

May’s features pinched before relaxing as she blew out a sigh. “No Ward. I’m asking you to save the world.”

He tightened his grip on the machine gun. “What if I say no? Shoot you all now and leave? What’s to stop me?”

May raised an eyebrow as a small smile played across her face. “I imagine the twenty armed soldiers outside this room would be a good start. But your question is irrelevant. You’ve already made your decision. You’ve already said yes.”

She held his gaze without blinking. His gut clenched again. She wasn’t lying.

Damn it.

Grant lowered his gun. “And that’s how I walk out of here. The machine.”

May’s lips twitched into a smile. “It would be like you were never here.”

Grant snorted out a laugh. “You said that already.”

He heard the doors open behind him as the waiting soldiers entered the room and surrounded him.

Grant Ward strikes out once more.

Grant sighed as he raised his hands and surrendered his weapon. “Are you at least going to tell me something of worth this time?”

May smiled as she rose from her seat. “I’ll give you a full briefing on the way.”

***

Grant felt a trickle of cold air work its way down his spine.

He blinked his eyes open.

He saw concrete walls.

_Get out through the window on the southern wall._

Grant knifed himself up and turned to face the exterior wall of the cell. The metal framed window was just above him. He would need something to help scrape out the sealant.

He spread his hands against the wall as he pulled himself up to examine the window better. His left hand slid across a patch of damp. Part of the concrete came away and fell to the floor.

Grant froze and glanced at the fragment beneath him. It was almost shaped like an arrow head, a narrow tip from where it had come away from the corner widening out towards the base.

_You’ll find everything you need in your cell._

It would work.

He grabbed it and started scraping.

He had the window out in under a minute.

The sudden hammer of rain hit Grant squarely in the face as he dropped down outside.

_You’ll have ninety seconds after the rain starts before the guard arrives._

Time the run through the searchlights. Hold position at the edge of the building until the light sweeps past then a sprint. Drop and roll into the depression at the edge of the asphalt. Wait again for the light to swing past. A sprint to the fence.

_Your exit path has been cleared. You’ll find the rest of your gear as you leave the compound._

Grant blinked as he took in the cut wires in front of him and fought the urge to laugh. He really was predictable. His eyes caught sight of a pack, hidden from above under the cover of some leaves.

_The plane leaves Havana at twenty hundred hours. Be on it._

He had a plane to catch.

****

It took him just under eleven hours in the stolen car to reach Havana.

A long uncomfortable ten hours and fifty three minutes forcing the hot-wired piece of crap to handle sixty miles per hour.

His back was another story.

If there was a next time he was picking a vehicle with better suspension.

Or just cushions.

The next few hours were spent surveying the airport, establishing the guard patterns, mapping out the blind spots while he waited for the shift change.

Grant spotted his entry at eighteen hundred hours when the first of the trucks began arriving in preparation of departure.

_There’s a plane waiting to take Raina, Quinn and Skye out of Cuba._

It took twenty seven minutes to reach the hanger, sneaking between the guards and vehicles until he slipped in and found a hidden spot amongst the waiting cargo.

_On board that plane is a device powered by a crystal._

No sign of Raina, Quinn or Skye.

No sign of the device either.

Probably already on the plane but Grant wasn’t going to be able to get near that anytime soon.

Grant huffed out an irritated sigh as he considered his options.

The best approach would be to neutralise his targets when they arrived. The plane at this stage was an unknown variable.

He had better odds on the ground.

_You cannot let Skye activate the crystal._

Grant glanced round the edge of the crate at the increasing activity levels in the hanger.

He hoped the wait wouldn’t be too long.

It was the part he hated the most.

The waiting.

By the time his targets arrived fifty minutes later, Grant was seriously estimating how many bullets he would need to just clear the entire base.

The black SUV swung into the hanger, Quinn exiting first from the driver’s door before rounding the front of the vehicle and opening the door for Raina on the Passenger side.

Grant raised the silenced pistol he had liberated on his way inside and lined up his shots.

The rear passenger door swung open as a figure more metal than man stepped out, pulling Skye behind him.

Grant bit back a curse.

Deathlok.

He hadn’t known Trip was going to be here.

Grant could only watch as the group crossed the hanger to enter into the office on the far side.

Time for a new plan.

***

Grant groaned as his back hit a nearby container with enough force to push the air out of his lungs.

So much for being sneaky.

Grant felt his fingers strain against the hard metal as he tried to loosen Trip’s death grip around his neck.

“At least now I get the name.” He wheezed out.

He fell to his knees as Trip released him, drawing in as much air as he could into his beaten body. When he finally leaned back up he saw Trip had him sighted down the barrel of a gun.

God damn it.

“Why are you here?”

This really wasn’t how Grant had hoped things would go.

Grant held up his arms in surrender as Trip edged closer, trying to catch the other man’s gaze as he discarded various answers to Trip’s angry question.

He didn’t have time to think up a convincing lie.

“Skye. I’m here for Skye.”

Trip stared at him for a moment then lowered his gun with a humourless laugh.

“Garrett always said you were a soft touch. Just like her.”

“I’ve got to stop her, Trip.”

Trip nodded, an almost imperceptible movement but Grant caught it. He rose to his feet quickly and started towards the office.

“They know you’re coming.”

Grant froze by the door at Trip’s warning. It felt like someone was walking over his grave. His fingers tightened round the door handle. “Video feed?”

He glanced back to see Trip slowly shake his head before tapping one side of it.

“Direct from the source.”

Grant swallowed. “I’ll remember that for next time.”

Trip smiled briefly. “Doubt there’ll be one.”

“We can hope.”

He hadn’t even finished speaking before he saw Trip’s eyes roll back in his head. Saw the trickle of blood make its way down his face as Deathlok fell to the ground.

A loud bang caught Grant’s attention and he glanced to his left to spot Raina, Quinn and Skye running out of a smoking hole in the prefab office wall.

He should have expected Quinn to have access to the good toys.

Another note if there was a next time.

With a growl he spun on his heel, raising his gun as he took off after them.

He tagged Quinn just before the other man reached the open Cargo ramp of the plane, the body falling to the ground as Raina reached back to grab Skye’s arm and jerk her forwards inside the plane.

It seemed like the world around Grant erupted in a hail of explosions.

And bullets.

He kept low and fast as he dodged the gun fire, making it to the ramp just as it was starting to close.

Raina was waiting in the cargo bay, wide eyed and far from innocent.

Grant didn’t even blink as he made his way towards her. He knew better than to take any chances. Her forehead was centred in his sight the whole time.

“Where is she, Raina?”

The plane gave a lurch as it began moving forwards. Raina smiled as the engines roared into life.

“I’m afraid you’re a little late.”

Grant stepped closer pushing back at the cold shiver down his spine.

“Only this time. Where’s Skye, Raina?”

He saw her blink as a puzzled expression crossed her face before it cleared and she arched an eyebrow.

“Skye’s on her way to a family reunion.” Raina paused and a slow smile spread across her face. “I don’t believe you’re invited.”

He had never been so relieved to pull the trigger.

Grant would find Skye on his own.

He had time.

***

She stood silhouetted by the glow from the console. Grant was surprised he didn’t need to actually see her for his mind to supply every detail. The errant strands that had escaped the hastily scraped back ponytail to fall around her face. The way the Kevlar seemed to drown the small frame inside it.

He saw her shoulders tense and raised his gun as she spun round to see him.

He remembered that expression.

He’d never forgotten that expression.

His gun was steady. He had the shot sighted.

“You’re not going to shoot me, Ward.”

Grant felt his fingers tighten round the grip of his gun at the sound of her voice.

He remembered everything about her.

He’d forgotten that he remembered.

He saw her eyebrows raise at the movement and laughed without humour as he forced them to relax.

“Been a while since you called me that. Surprised I missed it that’s all.”

Confusion clouded her face for a too brief moment before the icy hardness returned. She could hear the lie in his voice. Only it wasn’t a lie. More an omission.

He hadn’t realised till now how much he’d missed _her._

He remembered...

_...That’s not a weakness is it?..._

A weakness. He had a mission.

He shrugged off the icy trickle down his spine and took a cautious step forward.

Her features tightened. “What are you doing here?”

Grant attempted a smile as he moved closer.

“Would you believe May sent me?”

“May? May sent you? You killed Coulson, Ward!”

Grant stopped moving as something twisted in his gut. He could still feel that cold oily sensation. Everything felt off to him. He sucked in a breath and tightened his control, pushing the feelings back.

“I had to make a call. It was him or John.”

Skye laughed bitterly. “And we both know how well that played out.”

Grant was close enough to see the unshed tears in her eyes. He didn’t know why the sight surprised him.

_...You can’t ever get attached. To anyone or anything..._

Grant swallowed. Something was wrong. Every instinct in his body was screaming out to abort. He could feel his mask cracking.

“Skye...”

“Why are you here, Ward? Who sent you? Tell me! You owe me that much.”

Her voice was cracking. She couldn’t break.

Grant knew he couldn’t let her break.

He held up his gun in surrender and reached out to her.

“May. It was May. I’m not lying to you, Skye. I’m here on her orders.”

Skye stepped back with a flicker of _something_ across her face. Grant didn’t know what it was; only that he was losing her.

He couldn’t lose her.

She shook her head as she looked away from him. “Orders. Right. Orders. I forgot that about you. How you like your orders. Always following orders. Like walking into traffic. She strap a bomb to you too? Expect you to wait before she pulls the trigger?” Skye paused, her eyes searching his face.

He should say something.

He needed to say something. Anything.

Grant opened his mouth but no words came out.

It was like a wall slamming into place as Skye’s face locked and hardened. She took another step away from him.

Another step closer to the device.

“Screw that.” Skye reached out to the glowing core of the console.

Grant sprang into motion.

“Skye!”

He reached her too late.

He was dimly aware of the screaming as the world around him shattered into coloured fragments.

No. Not coloured.

Black.

And it **_burns_**.

***

It had been his first real assignment. His first opportunity to prove himself. To start making a dent in the massive debt he owed John.

When they grabbed him, on his way back to the Embassy from Sokolniki Park, he thought they were Shield. That he’d done something wrong. Made a mistake. Been discovered.

He kept suspecting they were Shield right until he saw the tank of oil about twelve hours in.

For a moment he thought he was back there, his lungs screaming for oxygen as that clinging cold engulfed him until they pulled him up and he broke the surface again only to be forced back under moments later.

“Back with us, Ward?”

It hurt to breathe. He still felt the burning, felt the cold everywhere that touched the machine. He gasped for air as he tried to ground himself.

_He remembered..._

“Skye...She...there was...”

He couldn’t catch his breath enough to get the words out. The speakers crackled as May engaged the intercom again.

“Take a moment. Catch your breath. The first time is always the worst.”

Grant gritted his teeth as he fought the urge to rip himself free. To get himself far away from the _thing_ he was plugged into. He felt his fists clench and flex under the metal.

“You expect me to believe this gets better?”

He’d gasped out the words. He could _hear_ her smile in response even though he couldn’t seem to relax his neck enough to move his head.

Another crackle.

“I expect you to complete your mission, Ward. Everything is secondary to that.”

He could still hear the screaming ringing in his head. The screaming that hadn’t happened yet. But it would happen. Will happen.

_He can remember the burst of light before the colours fade._

Grant felt his body convulse as the memory of the blast overtook him.

_He’s screaming as he breaks apart._

There was a burst of static followed by the whir of hydraulics as a syringe appeared from under the arm restraints and hovered above his forearm. Grant could only watch as the needle pierced his skin before the numbness spread and he felt himself collapse into it.

He heard the speaker come to life.

“We’ll give you a moment to adjust before we restart.”

Restart. He couldn’t go through that again. Panic forced Grant’s voice into life.

“No! I can tell you what happens. Skye. She blows it up. You have to stop her. She’s going to blow the whole universe apart.”

He was drained.

Grant collapsed back into the chair and closed his eyes.

_He remembered the black._

_He remembers how it **burns**_.

“We already know what will happen.”

His eyes sprang open. The cold shiver down his spine was back.

“...I don’t understand...”

It was barely a whisper but whatever receiver was in the room with him must have picked it up as May’s voice rang out over the speakers.

“In exactly nineteen hours, seven minutes and 42 seconds a chain reaction destroys reality and everything ends.”

Grant blinked. “What time is it now?”

“01:37. You were under for just a few seconds. Jumps within a short time frame of the point of origin are near instantaneous. Are you ready to continue?”

He wanted to say no. Every fibre, every shred of his soul was screaming to say no.

Granted felt his jaw clench as he forced himself to relax.

Another crackle.

“I’m curious. How long did it take before you agreed to my offer?”

Grant frowned.

“...what?”

There was a pause then the static again.

“You never refused, did you?” A soft laugh. “It was a bad offer, Ward.”

Grant let out the breath he didn’t realise he was holding as he closed his eyes. He remembered this.

_...Say yes. It’ll be hard but fun..._

_There’s a catch._

“You think I didn’t know that?”

_...Say yes..._

_Grant knows there’s a catch._

The burst of static.

“But you still said yes.”

_...Yes._

Grant huffed out a laugh. It sounded hollow.

“It’s what I do.”

Something just behind his left ear started to hum softly. He heard the speaker crackle to life again as May’s voice followed.

“Always following orders.”

_...I forgot that about you..._

_...always following orders..._

_He remembered her face as she looked at him. How at that moment he had seen himself through her eyes._

_How John had been right. Grant Ward is weak and worthless._

_He remembers staring down the barrel of the gun and wondering if this is it. If this time the bullet will hit its target. Just another mistake to be erased. Crossed off._

_He remembers some part of him hoping that it would end._

_Just not like this._

The machine started to whir into life again. Grant felt the pressure start to build around him. Inside him.

_...say yes..._

“I made a choice. False hope is better than no hope.”

He heard May laugh despite the escalating volume around him.

“I’ll remember you said that.”

He could feel the black slide through him. His eyes closed.

“I doubt it.”

This time he would be better. Faster.

This time he would get it right.

This time he would get there in time.

He remembered the feeling as time tore apart.


End file.
